


Not Funny, Valentine

by astrologicallyDubious (ruination_fangs)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-20 09:04:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1504610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruination_fangs/pseuds/astrologicallyDubious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is entirely possible that it is, in fact, just a box of chocolates.</p><p>Then again, this is John Egbert.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Funny, Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> written really quickly on tumblr for Valentine's Day, uploaded here 600 years later because I forgot.  
> why do stories require titles, I am not a creative person

The box on the porch is red, heart-shaped, and incredibly suspicious.

It’s not that Rose doesn’t expect John to do something sweet for the holidays. He’s better than her at remembering special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries, after all, and he never fails to prepare something nice in advance. Even though he knows Rose doesn’t particularly care for Valentine’s Day, trivial details like that don’t deter him from trying to make her smile anyway (and, to her mingled chagrin and pleasure, he usually succeeds). 

It’s just that John is nowhere to be found. He’s not standing on the porch with a poorly-concealed bouquet of flowers behind his back, nor did he text her any emoticon hearts as soon as he woke up. No Egbert traditional home-cooked meal was delivered to her first thing in the morning and no cheesy grocery store-bought card has been set out to mark the occasion. The box doesn’t even have his name on it; the surface is marred only by a small heart drawn with a blue sharpie in the upper right corner. 

Cautiously, Rose leans down to pick it up. She’s seen hundreds; they’re all over the place around Valentine’s Day. The tape sealing it shut is unbroken, and when she carefully sniffs at the side it smells, naturally, like chocolate. 

She doesn’t buy it. But it’s almost  _too_  obvious. Surely he knows by now when his pranks are as transparent as the lenses of those stupid fake glasses-and-mustache he wears. The gag won’t work if she can see through it quickly enough not to open the box. She sets it on her kitchen table still shut tight and regards it carefully from her seat.

Maybe she’s overcomplicating things. This is John, after all. He has, year after year, consistently challenged the notion that good deeds are always accompanied by underhanded and sinister motives.  _Underhanded_  probably isn’t even in his vocabulary (extensive though it has come to be after years of dating Rose Lalonde); even his pranks are never intended to be cruel, and if they ever had the unfortunate side-effect of upsetting someone, he had the good grace to apologize and take the lesson to heart. Nowadays his repertoire is more goofy than anything.

So it is entirely possible that it is, in fact, just a box of chocolates. John is a sweet boy who likes to give gifts to his girlfriend; she knows that by now. Maybe he just wanted to deliver her present early so she would know he hadn’t forgotten her, and then disappeared to tend to some other work or plans for a while.

There’s really no reason to overthink it. The chair legs scrape against the floor as Rose stands to procure a pair of scissors from a drawer and deftly cut the tape in two. Setting the scissors on the table, she hesitates, then gently grips the edges of the lid and lifts.

The confetti is red and pink and silver, and it goes  _everywhere_.

—

"Do you know how long that took me to clean up?" she demands, fixing John with her sternest stare from across the table.

He grins, part sheepish, but not enough to convince Rose that he’s sorry. 

"It’s just confetti, Rose. It sweeps. I’m sure you own a broom. And not just for whatever weird witchcraft the neighbors think you practice at night."

"It got behind the fridge. From the table, John."

"Rose." John sets his fork down.

"You could have poked my eye out."

"Rose, it’s like,  _paper_.”

"Truly, words that may be spoken only by one who has never suffered the perils of a papercut."

John rolls his eyes, the smile never quite fading from his lips. “I can’t believe you fell for it, though! I thought for sure when I came to pick you up it’d still be sitting on the porch, untouched. Like a bomb or something.”

"Well, I certainly couldn’t just leave it there." Rose wipes one hand on her napkin. "That would just be rude."

For a moment the kitchen is silent. John opens his mouth to respond and—

"Like rigging a box of chocolates to explode into confetti when opened," she says calmly, touching the napkin to her lips.

But it’s too late. He saw the edge of her lip twitch upwards before she could conceal it, and he pounces.

"You laughed, didn’t you? You totally laughed! You think I’m hilarious and you love my jokes."

Well, there’s no use being coy now. She rests her chin on her palm and stops trying to fight back a smile. “I love something, but it’s probably not your jokes.”

"Why, Rose," he says just a little too facetiously, "I had no idea you were so enamored with my rugged good looks and manly charm."

"Mmhm."

Suddenly he bends over, half his body coming off his chair for a moment as he reaches under the table.

"Well, if that’s the case…" he says as he pushes another box of chocolates across the table toward Rose. "Since you got me those candies AND knitted me gloves, I guess I owe you a little more than dinner and confetti all over your floor. Er, the confetti, not the dinner."

"You don’t owe me anything," Rose says, but her eyes stay fixed on the box. It’s identical to the other one, at least on the outside — but surely he doesn’t want the confetti all over  _his_  kitchen floor, too.

Her expression must be a little too obvious, because he huffs and says, “I promise this one is just chocolates! Well, almost. But no pranks!”

So she peels away the tape and gently lifts the lid and—

He was right. The only thing in the box besides the chocolates that belong there are a few scattered rose petals. She picks one up and it’s soft, smooth between her fingers. Fresh.

"They’re in the living room," he says. "Wanna see? I think it’s about time for that movie, anyway."

"What is it?" Rose asks, fitting the heart-shaped lid back on the box.

"Pft, it’s one of Karkat’s dumb romcoms or something. I figure if it’s not good at least we can laugh at it."

Rose stands up. “Good plan.” She doesn’t much care, though; she’s not sure how much attention she’ll be paying to the movie anyway. She’s much more concerned with who she’ll be watching it with. The boy who takes the hand she extends to help him up, and doesn’t let go even once he’s on his feet. A boy who offers to make dinner and show a movie at home on Valentine’s Day because all the nice restaurants will be too crowded. The same boy who would turn a holiday gift into a prank he wasn’t even there to see succeed, just for the fun of it, and make up for it twofold later.

And she wouldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
